


Open To Suggestions

by getoffmysheets



Series: Screw the Rules, I Have Fake Science [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha John, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Beta Sherlock, Genetically Practical Omegaverse, M/M, Screwing with the rules of Omegaverse, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 04:45:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5814784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/getoffmysheets/pseuds/getoffmysheets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's an Alpha, and he knows that dating a Beta is possible, but Sherlock has always seemed more like a Gamma, he's so uninterested in mating. Right?</p>
<p>This is to celebrate my one-year writing anniversary here on AO3!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Open To Suggestions

**Author's Note:**

> This is to celebrate my first year of writing hear on AO3! Happy birthday to me - have some shameless Omegaverse porn!

 John glanced up from his laptop to see Sherlock sitting on the stool at his microscope, examining several different types of hair follicles treated with substances to preserve their integrity and looked back down at his email. In his absence at the surgery, Sarah had been sending him articles of medical research and upcoming health journals at his request. This new one looked especially promising and he would rather not be interrupted to fetch a phone, a pen, a slide, or a container of battery acid, thank you very much. In fact, he'd meant to read this piece days ago, but it seemed that his flatmate was currently occupied quite intently. 

“A/O/G _: Modern Understanding of Secondary Sex Genes”, an essay by Doctor Heather MacMurphy and Doctor Michael Baldwin, John Hopkins University_

_While primary gender is assigned using the simple two part genetics of XX (females) or XY (males), the human secondary gender is one of the most complex sexual development characteristics in the modern world, governed by a pair of genes that have 3 separate components: Alpha, Omega, and Gamma – otherwise known as A, O, and G._

_Alpha – this always comes from the genetic code “AA”_

_Regardless of primary gender is capable of siring offspring through (additional) external genitalia, but cannot bear offspring. Highly fertile and responsive to scents and hormones. Experience intense biological demand for procreation during rut, and have poor control in the presence of their fertile counterpart, the Omega. Alphas are aggressive, powerful, and sometimes violent. They are territorial over their mates and extremely protective of offspring, and will readily engage in combat if they feel their claim over either is threatened. There is evidence for a higher rate of abuse and domestic violence in a household with an Alpha in it, and this statistic increases if there is more than one present. Studies in the last decade have posed questions about this behavior and have begun studies in genetic markers, hormone levels, and environmental factors._

_Omega – this always comes from the genetic code “OO”_

_Regardless of primary gender is capable of bearing offspring through (additional) internal genitalia, but cannot sire offspring. Highly fertile and responsive to scent and hormones. Experience intense biological demand to procreate during heat, and have poor control in the presence of a virile counterpart, the Alpha. The Omega was extremely rare just before the start of the Industrial Revolution. Their high rate of fertility meant more frequent pregnancies and a higher rate of mortality. Massive advances in the science of medicine has seen the rate of surviving Omegas steadily on the rise since then._

_Beta – this sex can be established three ways: “AO” (in either primary gender) or “AG” (in males) or “OG” (in females)_

_Reproductive status will match the status of their primary gender, siring while male and bearing while female. Fertility is low except with other Betas, where it is typically moderate to high. Experience low-level seasonal sex urges (usually late winter/early spring) but perfectly able to control themselves. Hormones are more subdued than the Alpha or Omega. Generally prefer sexual partners who are Betas of opposite primary gender, but aren't opposed to Alphas, Omegas, Gammas, Deltas, or Sigmas depending on the Beta's personality._

_Gamma – this is always expressed by the gene “GG”_

_Reproductive status unaffected by primary gender, because neither male or female Gamma are capable of reproduction at all. They do release scent and hormones, but are more subtle than a Beta and they are unresponsive to both. Supposedly more difficult to arouse, a Gamma must be interested in their sexual partner – they can't rely on hormone-induced instincts to guide them during intercourse. This often makes them less desirable to other genders, so most Gammas will pair with another Gamma or choose to abstain all together. In the past, Gammas could be subject to at very least, ridicule, and in worse cases, torture and assault, and most would choose to pose as Betas rather than admitting to their gender status. In recent years, particularly with the end of the Victorian era, this attitude is largely frowned upon in civilized societies. While they cannot reproduce, Gammas typically make good parents and statistically pups under their care are the least likely to experience abuse. Evolution studies suspect Gammas were developed as a way to provide care and shelter for pups whose parents were missing or unavailable or possibly as an automatic form of population control._

_Delta – this can only be obtained by a female with the code “AG”_

_At first appear to be beta females, but who can obtain Alpha physiology under certain circumstances. Sometimes this is not even known until genetic tests are done or the circumstances are fulfilled. Deltas are considered to be the ultimate Alpha, drawing multiple Omega into her troop with her intoxicating scent and keeping a harem of partners (usually between three and five), often of multiple sexes as even a Beta is incapable of wholly resisting the draw of a Delta. Curiously, the Delta and the Sigma usually display a curious reluctance to mate with each other, despite their high levels of attractant hormones. Most Deltas and Sigmas agree that their respective partner smells “a bit too familiar” or “like my brother/sister”. Some researchers suggest this is the Gamma gene, warning the Delta and Sigma away from each other to keep themselves from over-producing infertile Gamma offspring._

_Sigma – this can only be obtained by a male with the code “OG”_

_At first appear to be beta males, but who can obtain Omega physiology under certain circumstances. Sometimes this is not even known until genetic tests are done or the circumstances are fulfilled. Like the Delta, the Sigma is considered the ultimate Omega. He is capable of drawing multiple Alphas and Betas to clamor for his favor with his scent, and will usually form a hive of around four or five. In the first six to ten days of drawing them in with his attractants, the Sigma will demand nearly continuous service from his hive, establishing them as claimed to other Omegas and Sigmas-_

 

"Jesus," John muttered, eyes widening, first at the article and then again at the time as he glanced down at the digital display on the screen. It was way past dinner time for the two of them. Closing the laptop, he moved over to the kitchen bench, absently folding newspapers and straightening chairs along the way. "Sherlock? Indian or Italian for dinner?"

When he didn't receive a reply in the first three minutes after his question, John reached a hand toward Sherlock, moving to gently touch his shoulder.

“Don't touch me,” Sherlock snarled.

John flinched back, shoulders almost moving around his ears at Sherlock's tone of voice. Although he smelled like a Beta, Sherlock honestly behaved more like a Gamma sometimes, especially with the way he scorned mating, and touch in general.

Sherlock regretted the words almost as soon as they were out of his mouth.

Why? Why did he do this? That hadn't been what Sherlock meant to say – or rather, not in the way he'd meant to say it.

Then again, was there really a better way? _“John, you should refrain from physical contact with me while I'm thinking, because the touch of your hand sets every nerve in my body alight.”_

Hm, no. It was true, though. His mental faculties couldn't cope with concentrating on something else when John's skin touched his, every cell singwhispersighhumming with elation, longing and need, each neuron firing a message of desire up the pathways to his brain. It sometimes sent Sherlock into a near-swoon with sensation as he tried to manage all of this input at once. A squeeze of the shoulder or a tug on the arm could result in a loop of “feel-overload-reboot-concentrate-remember-analyze-feel-overload-reboot” for long seconds at a time inside his mind.

But he may have wanted to find another way to say it, because then John backed away from him, looking as though Sherlock had just slapped him in the face.

Sherlock wanted to reach back for him, beg, plead. _“I didn't mean it, I take it back. Touch me, touch me all the time, anywhere you want to, please. John, please.”_

But...the damage was done now and John didn't want that in the way that he wanted it. The moment passed, John sighed and turned away, likely thinking that he had sunken into one of his black moods again – something that hadn't happened in a while. He looked resigned and concerned and Sherlock bit the insides of his cheeks in frustration, until the skin was ragged and bloody. Muttering, John grabbed his coat from its place beside the door and fled down the stairs. The sound of the front door closing was like miserable punctuation to the regret curdling his stomach.

Why could he never manage to say the right thing? Unhappy now with his scientific pursuits, Sherlock got off his stool at the kitchen bench and listened to the heavy silence that settled around him in John's absence.

He was probably at the pub, Sherlock thought, punishing himself ruthlessly with the ache of his lonely jealousy. Finding some needy female Omega - those were his favorites, after all. They were soft and sweet-smelling and would give John what he himself couldn't. Not without...well, not without some drastic change, and Sherlock didn't want three or four or eight Alphas. He only wanted John. Just John. 

If he let himself...he would have half a dozen snarling at each other, holding him down and...the very idea made him feel sick to his stomach. But...

There were times that he nearly thought it would be worth it. John would never fuck another Omega again in his life. Sherlock would make sure of it. Some moments, Sherlock thought it might be worth letting himself be used by another Alpha - by several other Alphas, more likely - if he could just have John. An Alpha of his caliber - high command presence, high domination instincts - would never be able to resist if he realized what Sherlock truly was. 

That was the thing about the Sigma - they hid in plain sight.

But what if John was so uninterested in him that even his Sigma couldn't attract him? It had happened before, that an Alpha was so uninterested that even in the throes of heat, the Sigma was unable to entice him. It wasn't as common as with regular Omega, but it did happen. Sherlock absolutely couldn't even bear the mere idea of that. In his real form, he was supposed to be the greatest temptation - like a honeybee queen, luring in as many males to her hive as she needed. A failure at being a Sigma, as well as everything else. To sacrifice the life he'd built for himself, become the broodmare to a group of Alpha, and not have John show even the slightest interest? It was the stuff his nightmares were made of. 

Tearing himself away from his maudlin thoughts, Sherlock stalked down the hall. He'd relieve some of the tension racing through him with a John-related fantasy and settle down for a classic sulk underneath the covers.

~~~~

John was watching a match at the pub when the mobile beside his lager started vibrating violently, text message after text message suddenly flooding the device.

_Lestrade:_

_The cops have been called to Baker Street. Do you need me to come over, mate?_

_Mrs Hudson:_

_John, there's a whole pack of Alphas out in the street, and they keep trying to get inside!_

_Stamford:_

_I just saw your house on the news, mate!_

_Sarah_

_Did Sherlock get arrested for something?_

_Molly_

_Mrs H called - John, are you home?_

A vaguely sick feeling settled in his stomach when the cherry on top finally came: Mycroft Holmes called him.

"Any idea what Sherlock has done now?" John bit off, throwing a few pounds on the bar before shifting the phone to his good shoulder to get his coat on.

"You need to get to Baker Street," Mycroft said urgently, without any of the usual preamble that occurred in conversations with him. 

"Already on my way," he replied, shoving through the door. "Any reason why I'm getting a dozen texts about cops and Alphas and Baker Street on the news?"

"Sherlock is going into heat."

In the middle of the sidewalk, John stands still the foot traffic, getting dirty looks from other pedestrians passing by. " _What_?! That isn't possible! He smells like a Beta - Christ, Mycroft, he has all the classic markers for a double-g carrier!"

"Not quite," Mycroft said humorlessly. "Actually,  _I_ am the one who possesses Gamma status - which is not something you will repeat to anyone else. Despite what people say, we are still stigmatized by modern society. Our parents had Sherlock tested as a small child when we were finally certain I was a Gamma. They didn't react badly, but they did want to be prepared. Sherlock is a Sigma, John. And you need to get home quickly, before the Alphas gathering outside Baker Street either get their way and break down the doors to Baker Street to descend on him in a frenzy or start a city-wide riot with the Met." 

John's vision went red at the words 'descend on him in a frenzy'. His Alpha hind brain stood up and snarled, providing a picture of Sherlock wet and utterly helpless, being fucked by a dozen Alphas, beautiful and wanton and needy. His rational brain was horrified as it caught up with that line of thinking. It was entirely possible that they could kill Sherlock in a crazed rush - either because they were fighting to have him first or, if enough of them got inside, because Sherlock would be forced to let them all fuck him, over and over, by Alphas too careless to check if he was actually eager or even prepared, not bothering to stop and give him food and water between waves of the heat, just fucking him mindlessly until Sherlock grew weak and unwilling.

"Oh god, no." John began running, dodging and cursing people who were texting as they attempted to cross the street or cars who tried to cut through a red light. "How the hell did this happen? I mean, I know I've been living with him, but I thought a Sigma had to be residing with a bunch of eligible Alphas to trigger the Sigma's release. I've been living with him for more than a year and nothing happened before this - the only other Alpha in his proximity was Lestrade, and he's still claimed, so he wouldn't even be eligible."

"There's a misconception about Sigmas that they need a horde of Alphas to be satisfied," Mycroft said in contempt. "A single Alpha can transform them. But it takes a prime Alpha, so nearly all Sigma end up with a hive of second-class specimens. You can tell, because the more they have, the weaker the Alphas are. The worst have barely any more dominance than a Beta."

John snorted. "Prime Alpha? I'm a broken soldier with a part-time job who's internet-famous. I'm pretty much the boxed-wine of Alpha."

"Sherlock's genes think you're Glenfiddich, John," Mycroft said. He could practically see the man's eyebrow raising. "I won't tell you what to do with your life, John. But I strongly suggest you go...pour my brother a glass of Glenfiddich." 

"He's got a say in this, you know," John responded angrily. "He's got a right to say no, and I - it doesn't matter what I want or what they want. He can't make a choice - he'd say yes to anyone right now."

"Not to anyone," Mycroft disagreed. "And he's already made a choice, John. You don't think when you moved in that Sherlock considered the possibility? I'll wager he's been a nightmare for the last few months - after all, I'm sure he thought it didn't work." 

The line went dead as John's mouth dropped open, finally turning the corner into the state of chaos that currently was Baker Street. Oh god,  _the smell._ The smell hung over the air, decadent and smooth, like satin, sweet as honey and driving the Alphas in street into a semi-rut. Officers of the Met and bonded Alphas and Betas in the neighborhood were trying to keep the group - twenty or so, _dear god, they would have crushed Sherlock trying to breed him -_  from attempting to approach 221. They also tried to stop John, who moved to the door almost in a haze, dazed and hungry from the delicious scent.

"All Alphas must stay twenty yards from the door, please," barked a Beta female.

"I live here," he responded, forcing his tongue to move even though he knew how tight his pants were and his mouth was so, so dry. That was okay, he was going to get a taste of hot, hot honey-

"I'm afraid you still can't-"

The woman was stopped as Mrs Hudson rushed out the door. "John! Oh, John, thank god! Go upstairs! Make sure they don't - oh, I hate to think what would've happened if they got inside!" The older Omega drew herself up and told the officer "Let him through - don't you know who he is? He's the only one who can stop this without it ending in tears or blood!" 

"Ma'am my orders-"

"It's my property, and I say he's coming in," Mrs Hudson said firmly. "Let's go, John." She led him past the threshold. "I'm staying with my sister, but I'll see you boys in a week or so. Just...ring when your ready for me to return."

"I - I don't think I should do this, Mrs Hudson," John made himself say, hearing the dark gravel in his voice regardless.

Martha Hudson gave him a measured look. "Don't talk nonsense, John."

"I don't want - what if he doesn't want me to -"

"He does," she said shortly.

"But he-"

"Does. He absolutely does, John." She pursed her lips. "He was calling your name for the first half hour or so. After that, I think he was too exhausted to say anything." 

Mrs Hudson grinned as John bolted up the stairs, crashing through the door of 221B. She's go to her sister's whilst they sorted this out.

~~~~

When Sherlock heard someone crashing through the sitting room, he let out a whimper, half of relief and half of terror. It felt like it had taken hours, but his pathetic Sigma had finally lured someone in. Probably a desperate old Alpha or even a Beta. He'd taken a pre-heat pill just in case - he didn't want to be bred to just anyone, no matter how incompetent a Sigma he was. It seemed he wasn't a lovely queen honeybee after all - just a sad, wilted flower. After all this time, he'd finally bloomed, but no one wanted him anyway.

The strong scent suddenly filling the air made him cry out as his body spasmed, trying to clutch a knot that wasn't there as the intoxicating mixture of gun oil and black tea leaves filled the air. His hands weakly fisted the sheets, moaning as his thighs trembled with desire, the name leaving his lips reflexively, easy as breathing. "John."

His scent was all over the flat, Sherlock could hardly escape it - the slick flowed down his legs in gushes from the smell. At least this stranger wouldn't hurt him, he was plenty prepared just from the scent of the Alpha in his flat.

"Sherlock." John stood in the doorway, filling the space with his presence, eyes black with the lure of fresh, ripe Sigma.

Sherlock, curled on his side on the mattress, mewled anxiously and shivered all over. He wanted to be enticing, wanted to make sure John would at least consider mounting him, but was already too weak to present himself.

The mattress dipped and softly calloused hands stroked his sides, sending his nerves alight. "Shh, baby," John murmured tenderly, thumbs rubbing his inner thighs and nosing the hair at his nape. "It's okay, I just need to check first-"

Two fingers easily slid past his slicked opening and Sherlock sobbed, clawing the sheets as his body greedily swallowed the digits.

"God, you're so wet," John groaned, nipping his shoulders and slipping two more fingers in. " _So wet,_ Sherlock. You smell so good, love, I just want to make sure you're ready for me."

The raw sound Sherlock made vaguely resembling his name was accompanied by a full body spasm and a warm gush of fluid, and the miniature orgasm finally convinced John that it was okay. Sherlock mewled continuously, shaking and whispering John's name as he turned him onto his back.

The first slide of thick hard flesh caused another orgasm that squeezed his cock so tight John buried his face in Sherlock's neck and shut his eyes to keep from coming right there. He'd been right - he was like hot, hot honey and later on, when Sherlock was delirious with need, he'd feast himself on it.

Tears flowed down the corners of Sherlock's eyes as John thrust in, deep and slow now that Sherlock had stopped his continuous whimpering. Everything was so intense - he never wanted it to stop, but at the same time, it was more than he could handle all at once. Hands cupped his face and John kissed him with as much tender intensity as he was fucking him, wiping the tears from his cheeks. "Okay?" he whispered, kissing his mouth, his jaw, the corners of his eyes. 

It was just...so much.

"Don't stop," Sherlock cried, hanging on to John's shoulders. "Don't stop - oh, oh, oh,  _John,"_

John started grinding deeper, never drawing himself out, just pressing in hard, harder, harder, until a new trail of tears ran from the corners of Sherlock's eyes and his mouth and eyes were wide open. Not a single sound left his mouth. He shook all over, another flood washing John's cock in hot slick, his gorgeous arse squeezing tight.

"Fuck," John moaned, dropping his head to lick at Sherlock's pale throat. He could feel his knot slipping into the edge of Sherlock's hole, the heat of him licking at his body. "Sherlock, you gorgeous thing! Christ! You're about to make me - fuck! Want you so bad, Sigma. Bite you until you're mine." 

Sherlock mewled again, squirming so that he could bare as much of his neck as possible. 

John groaned and bit his earlobe. "I'm about to knot you, beauty," he whispered, cupping Sherlock's arsecheeks to make him meet the cock inside him better. "Knot you and cum in your delicious arse."

Sherlock's hole quivered around him. "Yes," he moaned, throwing his head back, "Alpha - breed me, Alpha!"

John's teeth snapped at his throat. "You want it so bad, I bet you'd let a dozen mount you just. Like. This," he growled, thrusting faster.

Sherlock's tears came faster. "No, no, no," he whined, clutching his strong shoulders, wailing as the biggest orgasm started to build. "No. Only want John. Just John. John breed me."

John's growl was almost a purr this time. "You bet I will, baby. You'll be gushing with my cum. Put a whole litter of pups in you, gorgeous thing. Spoil all of you rotten." He kissed at the trails on Sherlock's face, sucking hard at his neck. "Sherlock. Is. Mine!"

Sherlock screamed as the knot finally slipped inside, John's grinding thrusts massaging his inner walls, drawing out the release until he was practically comatose with pleasure. He moaned, long and deep, as he felt the hot flood of semen finally filling him up. John's head dropped to his chest, shuddering as he emptied himself into Sherlock. Rather than slipping behind him as Sherlock expected, John slid his hands under his shoulders to hold him closer, still kissing him with quiet passion as they waited for his knot to go down.

"Why didn't you bite me?" Sherlock asked quietly, wondering if he sounded as plaintive as he felt.

"You were off your head with lust," John murmured, nuzzling his neck, licking every piece of flesh within reach. "Wasn't taking anything seriously just then."

"Oh," Sherlock answered, feeling suddenly so, so small. 

John shifted up slightly and slid a hand up his throat, the dominant hand on his neck possessive, strong around his windpipe. "Say the words," he said softly, indigo eyes dark and wanting. "Say the words right now and I'll do whatever you want."

Sherlock tilted his head to the side. "Bond me, Alpha. Only to you, forever bound."

"Forever bound, Sigma. Only to you," he echoed, smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> So...that happened. Not bad for my first try, right?


End file.
